Of Pregnant Queens, and Fathers to Be
by Frigg
Summary: Describing the birth of my daughter (my first-born) and the reaction of her darling father to a fellow ff-writer, I was inspired to do this one-shot story of how a big, strong warrior gets out on a limb through something he has never tried before ...


OF PREGNANT QUEENS ... AND FATHERS TO BE 

The King of Rohan stormed out of the bedchamber, which he shared with his queen and ran for cover in his study.

Éothain, Marshal of the Mark and the king's closest friend, was already there and looked up when he saw the king coming in, looking confused and flustered. Éomer sank into his chair behind the desk and let out a deep breath, as he let a hand run over his face.

"What is wrong?" Éothain inquired, raising one brow quizzically

"Are all women completely insane when they are with child?" Éomer asked.

Éothain grinned: "Yes, I do believe that they are; why should the queen be any better than Melia."

"Does it get ever any better?" Éomer asked, his voice sounded worried.

"Yes and no." Éothain was the proud father of three, the youngest born only a few days ago. "For each child they tend to take the thought of the birth itself much easier, but they still blame you for everything!"

"What exactly did you say or do this time?" he asked the king teasingly.

"Nothing – well, nothing really. I put my arms around her and told her that she looked tired – and that I was glad that it would be over soon."

"And then she told you that you knew nothing about what it was like for her; you had had your pleasure – and so forth?" Éothain grinned loudly.

Éomer glared at him; a glare that would normally silence even the most resilient of adversaries. "You are quite right; and when I tried to tell her that I loved her all the same and that she was the most beautiful woman on earth despite her condition, she started crying and screaming that I was only saying that to please her –- and then she told me to get out!"

Éothain was not easily scared and just laughed: "Oh, you are really in trouble, aren't you?"

"I suppose that I am – but I did as I was told – got out. Now I know what Faramir must have felt when Éowyn was expecting Elboron and blamed him for almost everything that had happened in Middle Earth these past years." They both laughed.

Éomer shook his head and sighed: "Why is it that we did not flinch when we faced 100,000 orcs at Pelennor Field, but against our pregnant wives …"

"Aye, we fail miserably. It will get better, Éomer, trust me."

"Listen to an experienced man," Éomer grinned, "By the way, how is Melia and your son and heir?" Éothain was fiercely proud that his wife had borne him a son – after two daughters.

"They're fine – both of them. And trust me, Éomer, it gets easier. By number three you get used to it."

"I most certainly hope so; that is, if she will ever let me make love to her again; that was her most recent threat."

Éothain let out a great howl of laughter: "Oh, yes – they always say that, but they tend to forget it. As you can see, both Elfhelm and I have been allowed, and I am quite sure that the queen will come around, too – although being married to you may not be as fun as married to me."

"You are aware that what you say could be considered high treason, Marshal!" Éomer tried looking sternly at his friend, but failed and laughed instead. "Now – let us get some work done before the midday meal, by which time I hope that my lady is not in such a foul mood."

At midday, Éomer looked up from his paperwork, as he heard a knock on the door and his wife entered the study. Éothain looked up, too, and smiled. Even in her advanced state of pregnancy, Lothíriel looked beautiful. At least, Éomer thought so. And he had really meant it this morning when he told her that he loved her and that she looked wonderful.

Éothain excused himself, proclaiming that he wanted to look in on his wife and son, and Lothíriel sent him a smile. "I just looked in on them; he is a most beautiful child – and Melia seems to be doing fine."

"She is, My Lady." Éothain inclined his head to them both, sending Éomer an encouraging glance as he left the room.

Éomer looked apprehensively at his queen, not certain what to expect from her. Apparently Lothíriel had decided to forgive him because she went over to him, reached out her hand and caressed his cheek.

"I am sorry about this morning, Éomer; I always seem to be yelling at you these days, even though you try to be nice to me."

Éomer pulled out his chair and tugged at his wife's hand so that she came to sit in his lap. "Ouch, you are heavy." He grinned at her, knowing that he might be moving into dangerous grounds with his teasing, but as she just smiled, he continued.

"Yes, you do yell at me, my love and sometimes I do get really confused about it. It is true, though, that I am, at least partly, to blame for your condition." He hid his face in her hair, breathing in her scent. "But I do love you, you know."

"Yes, I do know." Lothíriel sighed. "I just want our child to be born; you are always so busy, and I cannot go with you anymore when you ride out. It seems as if I am always stuck indoors."

"That is true; you cannot ride anymore – and, as it is, the winter has kept you too much indoors." Éomer cupped her cheek with his hand. "My love, I wish that Éowyn could be here with you, but she cannot travel with a young babe." His sister had given birth a few months before.

Lothíriel smiled at her husband: "Yes, I wish that, too – but Elboron is too young to travel. I would have liked her by my side, when I am to give birth, but I have got Melia and Fréalin with me – and Cerwyn." Éomer nodded; he knew the efficiency of these women, who all had several children of their own.

He put his arms around her. "You are lucky that I am so much bigger than you. A man of lesser stature than me would have had difficulties reaching around you. Good thing that you did not marry one of the refined noblemen of Gondor." His eyes twinkled as he looked at her.

"Oh, you …" she basked him over the head "Just you wait. Sometimes you are so cheeky that I wished I had." She kissed him. "Now, come and have your midday meal. It is served."

They walked to the dining hall and sat down to have their meal. As they ate, Éomer looked at his queen. Sure, her belly had grown these past few weeks, but then she was not very tall and her figure was usually slim. But the rest of her: still as beautiful as ever – from the dark hair to her green, sparkling eyes. He smiled to himself; _I am a lucky man – and she is carrying my heir, what more could I wish for._

Having finished his meal, he rose. "Let me walk you back to our chambers, Lothy. I think that you should take some rest."

She looked at him "Oh, you think so, do you? Well, you may be right – unless it is some devious plan to have me lie down." This time it was her eyes that twinkled mischievously.

Éomer laughed: "Yes – and that, too." He took her by the hand and they walked down the hall into the corridor leading to their rooms. They entered and shut the door behind them.

Lothíriel removed her footwear and lay down on the bed. "Ah, it is good to get my feet up; I have been busy all morning, standing up in the supply room and I did not sleep that well last night." She sighed.

"So I noticed; you tossed and moaned so you kept me awake, too." Éomer pulled off his boots and lay down behind her, pulling her into his arms. "I could do with a bit of rest as well." He reached around her and put his hands on her swollen belly. He jerked as he felt the movement of the child inside her.

"Wow, no wonder that you cannot sleep, if my son is that active all the time."

"Your son, my lord? You are indeed vain; it might as well be your daughter," Lothíriel said teasingly.

"Yes, I do realise that; and if she is anything like her mother; she is sure to be a handful, too." Éomer caressed his wife's stomach, and could not help letting his hands wander further.

"You are incorrigible," Lothíriel chuckled and slapped him. "None of that, my lord. We need the rest."

"Hmm, you are probably right," Éomer murmured into her hair, and soon she could tell that he had fallen asleep. _He works too hard, _she thought just before she, too, drifted into sleep.

One hour later, he kissed his still sleeping wife and rose from the bed. He put on his boots and went to the hall, where his council and advisors awaited him.

"Did you have a nice rest," Gamling asked smilingly.

"Splendid," Éomer replied "The queen tosses and turns so at night that it is hard to get any sleep."

"If you think that you are not getting enough sleep now, then wait until the child is born." Éothain, who was back from seeing to his family, grinned.

"Aye," said Gamling, "then our lord and king will wish that he had never wished for an heir, much less produced one."

"If you two are through insulting your king, I believe that we can start the council meeting," Éomer growled.

The other council members smirked. Most of them had been with Théoden; Lord Erkenbrand was an old friend of Éomer's father, and they had all known the king since he was a boy.

"Will the lady Éowyn be coming?" Erkenbrand asked. Éomer's sister had always been a personal favourite of his, and he was always looking forward to seeing her.

"Unfortunately no; her son is yet too young to travel, but Faramir informs me that perhaps they will be coming in summer, when the roads are better suited for travelling." Éomer replied and continued.

"It would have been good to have her here, though, she knows more about female matters and would be able to support the queen, at least better than I can."

"Aye, and protect you so that you do not get in trouble with the queen." Gamling smirked.

"Now, Gamling; one more remark like that or you will be the one in trouble – when I tell Cerwyn." Éomer grinned, and the others with him. They all knew what Gamling's wife was capable of. Gamling just shook his head.

"Now, let us see; what matters need to be dealt with today?" Éomer asked his council and they settled down to take care of the daily matters of the kingdom.

---ooOOoo---

The weeks went by; spring had arrived in Rohan and the land looked green and new again. The birth of the Heir of Rohan was eagerly expected in all quarters, both high and low – and mostly by the father-to-be.

Lothíriel's discomfort was increasing and she was having difficulty finding rest at night. The eager anticipation of everybody did nothing to ease her impatience and Melia had to settle her doubts more than once.

"Please, My Lady, rest now; it will soon be over; I do not believe that it will be more than a couple of days now." Melia said, gently patting the shoulder of the queen. Melia was only a couple of years older than Lothíriel, but she and Éothain had been married at an early age and already had three children.

"Melia, I am a bit scared; what if anything goes wrong, and what if I do something embarrassing." Lothíriel felt silly, as Melia looked at her, the mirth very evident in her blue eyes.

"Don't you be talking about embarrassing yourself again; you will do fine - you are a strong woman – and if you scream a little more than I did, so what, after all you are royalty and not just the wife of a marshal." Her eyes caught the queen's and they both laughed.

Lothíriel looked at her companion: "Oh, it is so good to have you here; you and Cerwyn. Fréalin I am still a little bit afraid of," she whispered. Melia laughed "Yes, so am I."

Lothíriel went to look at the basket, in which the youngest offspring of Melia and Éothain was sleeping peacefully. It was strange imagining that in a few days, perhaps, she would be looking at her own child sleeping, perhaps her own son.

"If my child is a boy, at least he will have one companion." Lothíriel smiled at the child's mother. Melia smiled back; Éomer and Éothain had been friends ever since Éomer and Éowyn had arrived at Edoras after the death of their mother – and even though Éomer was now king, it had brought no changes in their friendship.

"Yes, My Lady, that would be nice," she said, "and now I think that you should rest for a while."

At midday, Éomer entered their sitting room to find his wife asleep on the daybed. He sat down quietly at her side, caressing her cheek. She opened her eyes and looked at him. He bent down to kiss her.

"A messenger has arrived with letters from your father and from Éowyn," he said. "And I have ordered our meal to be served in here; I think that you need some peace from all the well-wishers and the anxious questioning?"

Lothíriel smiled at her husband: "That was most considerate. Yes, I could do without all the anxious questions about my well-being, and the lateness of the arrival of your heir! Letters, you say?"

Éomer handed her a leather pouch. "Yes, my sweet. I had one from your father as well. He will be coming in a month or so to see his grandchild, and he will be bringing Amrothos."

Lothíriel laughed happily; Amrothos had always been her favourite brother and it would be good to see some of her family.

There was a knock on the door; in came a maid with a tray. She started to lay the table, but Lothíriel dismissed her. She rose and began serving the meal: "I am not crippled you know, only pregnant," she told her husband.

They shared the meal, reading the letters and chatting happily about the events described in them. Lothíriel opened the letter from Éowyn: "She regrets very much that she cannot be with me, but she sends me all kinds of advice also regarding you. She writes that she and Faramir will be coming in summer when the roads are better and Elboron is older."

Éomer chuckled: "Yes, I can imagine that she is giving you all kinds of advice, that would indeed be like her and Faramir has been writing me about their visit, too."

The next couple of days were quite uneventful, except for the steady feeling of anticipation that grew in Lothíriel. One night, just a couple of hours after they had gone to sleep, she woke with a jerk. _What was this?_

She must have uttered a sound, because Éomer jerked up in bed beside her. "What is happening? Lothy, what is wrong; are you feeling ill?"

Despite an acute feeling of discomfort and a pain that shot through her, Lothíriel could not help laughing.

"No, you big lug; I believe that it has started. I am in labour, I think – and ooh, I also think that my water just broke."

"Is there anything I can do …. I mean," the king looked wildly around him, his hair wildly tousled from sleep.

"You could start by getting up and fetching Fréalin and Melia", she groaned, but could not help giggling just a little bit when she saw his confusion.

Éomer shot out of bed, pulled on his breeches and his shirt as he ran. He did not know how he reached the servants' quarters and banged on Fréalin's door.

The housekeeper came to the door "What is it, Éomer – is it the queen?" Éomer only nodded, the confusion still vivid in his face. "Find someone to wake up Cerwyn and Melia!" Fréalin ordered; Éomer did not even think to question that she was ordering him about.

_Men – what good are they?_ Fréalin mused as she rushed to put on her dress, as she heard Éomer calling for one of the maids.

Fréalin was in no hurry; she knew that the first child would always take its time. She woke one of the kitchen maids, telling her to fetch cloths, clean linen and water and bring to the queen's bedroom and then she went to fetch some clean clothes for the queen as well as some of the little things for the baby.

When she entered the bedchamber, Lothíriel was leaning on the bedpost, breathing heavily and groaning.

"How far between are the pains?" Fréalin asked, as she was putting down the things she was carrying. "I do not know, quite far I think." Lothíriel said.

"Then it will be a while yet, My Lady. Come and sit in the chair; it is not time for you to lie down yet." Fréalin coaxed her queen to sit down in one of the high-backed chairs by the fire and put a blanket around her.

Éomer returned with Cerwyn and Melia. The king was still looking worried and dishevelled and the women looked as if they thought that it was quite fun. Behind them, Gamling and Éothain appeared.

Cerwyn looked at her husband: "You take the king with you; this is no place for men; you are of no use here."

Gamling nodded; he knew his wife – and he knew for sure that he had been of no use when his own children had been born.

He nodded at Éothain and the two of them took hold of Éomer.

"Just one moment!" Éomer growled; then he looked at Lothíriel and said: "I will be there, if you need me – you know that!"

Lothíriel nodded. "I know, go now, my love; I will be fine."

Éomer let himself be led out of the bedchamber. Éothain grinned at Gamling; "I think that for once there is something that you and I do better than our lord and king. We have learned the noble art of being patient at childbirths."

Gamling grinned. "Aye – and we also know better than to get in the way of the women."

Then they both grinned at each other and said: "But how could he know!"

The three men went into Éomer's study. Éothain rang for one of the servants and asked him to bring a jug of ale and some tankards.

"We might as well use our time in a sensible manner," he said as he poured the ale. "It will be a while; I remember that it was with Melia when she had our first."

Éomer sat down at his desk, gesturing to the others to sit down. "Do children always arrive at night?" he asked.

"No, not always, but it usually all starts in the night." Gamling looked at his king and smiled. "We could try and get some sleep in here, should I have some bed linen brought?" Éomer shook his head, but Éothain looked up and nodded.

The hours crept by; the men tried to sleep; Éothain and Gamling managed to fall asleep, but Éomer could not. He paced the floor, the thoughts swirling around in his head without any coherence.

In the meantime, the women were trying to ease the queen's discomforts. Cerwyn told funny little anecdotes; Melia soothed her and Fréalin went to and fro, doing odd little jobs. Most of the time, Lothíriel moved about the room, as she felt too restless to sit.

Melia had fetched the healer Freda, who acted as the midwife in Edoras, and she had examined the queen. The pains came and went; they were getting more and more frequent, but were still not efficient enough,or so Freda said.

In between, the other women told stories of their children –- and of their men.

Lothíriel looked up at Melia. "Where is Hama?" she asked. The son of Éothain had been named for his father's uncle, who had been one of Théoden King's most trusted men. "I left him with my sister; she gave birth only six months ago and still have milk to feed several children." Melia smiled. "Don't you worry, My Lady."

Lothíriel moaned, as pains jolted through her body. "Éomer is lucky that he is not here," she hissed. "I am beginning to feel like trashing him good and thoroughly!"

"Oh, that is a good sign. She is starting to curse her husband; it won't be long now." Cerwyn chuckled and turned to Freda.

She nodded: "I think that it is time for the queen to lie down." Melia and Cerwyn had prepared the bed.

Freda examined the queen again: "It will not be long now before you can start pushing, My Lady. Soon the king's heir will be born."

"Or his sister", Lothíriel moaned. "But I would give a lot to have this over and done with. Bloody hell, it hurts!" she screamed as another wave of pains went through her body.

Cerwyn and Melia grinned; it was obvious that the queen had absorbed some of the more colourful expressions in Rohirric – this was one of Éomer's particular favourites, she was using.

Éomer heard the scream and tensed immediately. "Calm down, it is only natural that she screams; I believe that it hurts a lot." Gamling was awake and tried to reassure his king, but in vain, as Éomer continued his pacing in the corridor.

By now, Lothíriel was pushing hard to give birth to her child; the other women encouraged her, dried off the sweat from her forehead and soothed her in between the pains.

Lothíriel bit her lips; this was painful. At this stage, she could not imagine why women chose to have more children; and when she said this to the other women, they just smiled and said that she would see, once the child was born, she would think no more of the pain.

"Never, ever again!" Lothíriel screamed and then she swore loudly again, this time in a mixture of Elvish and Rohirrim.

Éomer, who had been walking up and down the corridor, heard her and burst into the bedchamber, unable to control himself anymore. "Lothy, my love – what's wrong?"

"I'll tell you what's wrong, you miserable git; it is all your fault, you got me into this. Get out of here," Lothíriel screamed at her husband "I hate you." She swore ferociously, her hair was tousled and sweaty and hung about her contorted face.

Éomer went all white as he saw Lothíriel like this. Melia pushed him gently out of the room. "Do not listen to her, My Lord, she does not mean it. I will call you when it is over, and then she will have changed her mind completely."

She patted his arm reassuringly and went with him to the study, where she handed him over to her husband. "You take care of the king, Marshal. I entrust you with this task."

Éomer sat down at his desk, resting his head in his hands. "I did not know that it would be like this; she is hurting so much and it is all my fault." He looked up at Gamling, his face all pale and his eyes filled with tears.

By now, Éothain had also given up on getting any sleep. He looked at the others.

"Do not fret, Éomer, as long as she is cursing you and screaming the house down, she will be all right. Trust me." Éothain put a hand on his friend's shoulder and nodded to Gamling, who went to the cupboard and took out a bottle of brandy and three goblets.

He poured some brandy in one of them and handed it to Éomer. "Drink this; you look like you need it."

The morning sun was high in the sky, when another sound replaced the queen's screaming and swearing: the tiny wail of a child. Éomer looked up: "Is it ……?" Éothain smiled at him: "Yes it is; it will not be long before you can see the queen and your child."

It took much too long for Éomer's taste, but finally the door opened, and Cerwyn came through the door with a big smile on her face. Éomer looked at her. "You can come in now, the queen is waiting to see you, My Lord."

Éomer grabbed her arm, "Is she alright – and the baby, is it a boy or a girl – and is it all right?" His voice was trembling.

"The queen is all right as is the child – and I am not supposed to tell you whether it is a boy or a girl, My Lord. Just come with me." She grinned at her husband and nodded unnoticeably at him, as she led the king out of the room.

"A boy?" Gamling mouthed at his wife and she nodded again. The two marshals embraced. Éomer did not notice; he almost ran down the corridor. Just before he entered, he slowed down, straightened his clothes and his hair and went into the room.

The sunlight was streaming into the room through the curtains. Éomer went straight up to their bed and knelt down beside his wife.

"I am so sorry, my love. If I had known what pain this would cost you, I would never …" His eyes swelled with tears, and the agony he had suffered was evident in his face as he looked at his wife.

"Oh, Éomer, you fool. If you had not lain with me, we would never have had this beautiful child. Now, stop this and say hello to your son and heir." Lothíriel smiled as her husband turned his eyes to look in wonder at the small bundle in his wife's arms.

"My son," he whispered. He reached down to caress the downy head of the little boy. "My son …." He leaned over and kissed his wife. "Thank you, my love," he said, his voice hoarse and raspy.

"Would you like to hold him?" Lothíriel asked. Hesitantly, Éomer took the small bundle that his wife held out towards him. He trembled, almost afraid that he would hurt the little one – and like all new fathers he held the child awkwardly at first. Melia helped him and soon he began to relax.

He looked down into the little face; the eyes were closed so he could not see their colour, but the hair was blonde. A little hand was clenched into a fist. _He is beautiful, but so small,_ the proud father thought.

He sent his wife a smile "He is so small. I am almost afraid to hold him."

Fréalin looked at him "Actually, he is not. He is as big as you were when you were born. Go show him to Éothain and Gamling. We need to get the queen into something else." Lothíriel smiled.

Éomer looked at his wife, who nodded: "It will be all right; he will not break you know."

Éomer went to the study, carrying his son in his arms. A proud and moved expression spread over his face. "Marshals of the Mark; meet the heir to the throne of Rohan," he said. Éothain and Gamling bowed. "Hail, Prince of the Mark!" they said.

"What will you be calling him?" Gamling asked.

"I have not really thought about it." Éomer replied, and it occurred to him that he had not actually given it a thought.

He went back to the bedchamber, where the women had given Lothíriel some clean nightclothes on and remade the bed. They had also prepared the cot for the baby.

"It has not been in use since Théodred was born," Éomer said as he saw it. Both he and Éowyn had been born at Aldburg, the home of their parents.

"A good long time," said Fréalin, who was moving about the room, removing the last evidence of what had taken place, and Freda was attending to the queen. Melia had left them to go see to her children, and Cerwyn took charge of the sleeping baby and put him in his cot. "Lie here, little man; your mother needs her rest – you will wake her soon enough when you are hungry."

Lothíriel was leaning against the headboard of the bed, smiling happily as she looked at her husband. She held out her hand. "I am sorry that I frightened you so," she said, "I must have said some horrible things to you; Fréalin is really very upset with me."

Éomer smiled a bit shakily, "I probably deserved them all; but Lothy, I did not know that you could swear like that. And I really was very frightened, when I heard you – and saw you agony. But I meant it, had I known this, I would not have lain with you."

"Oh, yes, you would, you rogue. And it is what we have to go through; luckily we women are the ones, who give birth – and not you men." Lothíriel smiled at her husband.

"She is right, you know, my lad." Fréalin chuckled as she gathered the last of the cloths and prepared to leave. She had known the king for a very long time – and was not in awe of him. Cerwyn giggled and left the room together with Fréalin and Freda to give the young couple a moment alone.

Lothíriel smiled. Éomer sat down on the bed and kissed his wife's hand. "I am usually a man of my word, but that is probably one promise that I would not be able to keep."

Lothíriel whispered, "And I would not have you keep it, My Lord. You will just have to get used to being cursed in both Elvish and Rohirric every time I give birth."

Éomer laughed, "So you are certain there will be more?"

"Of course; did I not promise to fill the Golden Hall with our children?" Lothíriel chuckled. "Although for the time being, I think that this one will do."

"Have you thought of a name yet?" she inquired.

"I have not, but I will let you know as soon as you have had some rest, my love. If my son is anything like me, he will soon need your attention – or so Fréalin will tell you." Éomer smiled and leaned over to kiss his wife softly on the lips. "I will tell Freda that you are resting and that she should watch over you. I will be back soon." He rose, letting his hand linger in hers. "Sleep now, my love."

Back in the study, he found Gamling and Éothain waiting for him together with Cerwyn. They were talking quietly together as he entered.

"So she has forgiven you?" Gamling asked his king, who nodded.

"Aye, my friend, just as you have been forgiven by your darling wife several times." Éomer grinned at Cerwyn.

"Cerwyn, please ask Freda to sit by the queen. She is asleep now, but I think that she will need some help with the baby as soon as she wakes."

"Certainly." Cerwyn smiled at the young king. "Congratulations, My Lord; he is a fine boy, and he looks just like you."

"That he is," Éomer smiled, and then he paused: "Looks like me? How can you tell?"

"I can. I just told your marshals that the young prince is an exact copy of his father, and Fréalin agrees with me."

"Poor boy," Éothain muttered and went to the cupboard to pour a goblet of brandy for his king. "A toast for the Queen and the Heir of Rohan must be in order now," he said, as he handed Éomer the goblet.

"Indeed, to the Queen", Gamling said and hoisted his goblet. They drank and then Éomer turned to his marshals.

"I thank you two for staying with me and keeping me almost sane. But now, go home to your families. I have some thinking to do. I have to find a good name for my son." He grinned; a happy grin that lit up his face and made him look like a young boy.

Alone in his study, he took another sip of his goblet and leaned back. Then he rose. _I need a ride_, he mused. He told the guards at the door that he would take his horse for a ride and that he would be back shortly. Then he went to the stables to saddle up Firefoot. He rode out of the gates and let his stallion run free over the plains.

At a fair distance from the city, he turned and looked back. The afternoon sun shone on the roof of the Golden Hall and lit up Edoras and he suddenly felt like bursting. He let go of his reins, raised his arms in the air and cried out his joy. _Right now, life is good_ he thought.

Then he took up the reins to go back to the city. Suddenly it came to him: "Elfwine – we shall call him Elfwine; a good strong name for a Rohirrim king, who has Elvish blood in his veins." He spurred on Firefoot. The horse felt his master's mood and whinnied loudly.

Back at Meduseld, he went to their bedchamber. His wife and son were awake and the little boy had just been fed. Lothíriel sat with him in her arms, resting against the headboard. Éomer walked over to the bed and looked down at the two of them. He sat down at the bedside and reached over to caress his son's cheek.

"I have thought of a name, my love. What say you to Elfwine? It takes into consideration both your Elvish heritage and my Rohirric; it will be a good name for a King of Rohan."

"Elfwine," the queen said. "I like it, Éomer. It will be a good name for our son. Will you tell everybody now?"

"I will tomorrow, when I take our son to meet our people at the naming ceremony. For now I would just like to sit with you and enjoy my new status as a father. It will take a while to get used to, you know – but I will soon learn."

"We will learn together; come and sit with me. I could do with somebody to lean on and it would be good to feel your arms around me."

Éomer laughed and pulled off his boots. He eased himself down on the bed beside his wife and son. Éomer took the sleeping child from his wife's arms and put him between them on the bed, and Lothíriel leaned back against him, as he put his arm round her. He leaned down to kiss her gently, and she smiled, squeezing his hand.

And it was thus that Fréalin found them when she came in to check on the queen. Lothíriel had fallen asleep against her husband, who just sat gazing at his sleeping son, deep in thoughts.

Fréalin leaned over to take the baby from the bed and put him in his cot. "You should get some sleep, too," she said and then she reached out to caress the bearded chin of her king, who was like a favourite son to her: "You are happy now, aren't you, my lad?" she asked softly.

Éomer looked up at the woman, who had been taking care of him and his sister since they were children. "Yes!" he just said and his smile lit up his entire features. Then he leaned back, and closed his eyes.

Fréalin tiptoed out of the room, pulling the door closed behind her.


End file.
